


The Real Thing

by Rickey



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Humor, Drama, Fantasy, M/M, Romance, Snark, Voyeurism, Wandlore, flangst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-24
Updated: 2009-10-24
Packaged: 2017-10-23 11:00:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/249558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rickey/pseuds/Rickey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Potter left the Auror corps and became Mr. Ollivander's apprentice, while Draco Malfoy became an expert on making people's fantasies come to life. When Harry decides to see what Draco's up to, Harry becomes Draco's greatest challenge. Just what is the fantasy of the hero who everyone else wants to be?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Real Thing

**Author's Note:**

> Big huge Beta thanks to absynthedrinker and marguerite_26. I don't think I would have made it as far as I did on this fic without your help.
> 
> This fic was originally written for the hd_career_fair for phoenixacid's wonderful Fantasy Broker!Draco! prompt. I loved the prompt so much that I couldn't resist it. Unfortunately I was hit with a massive case of festburn (read like heartburn) and probably should've dropped out, but I just don't have it in me not to follow through on a sign up (barring massive real life disaster). I was very unhappy with the fic posted at the fest, and once the fest pressure and hoopla was over, I did some edits and re-writing to fix it (hopefully). Thanks to themostepotente for the beta of the revised version. I'm much more satisfied with the fic now.

***

Saturday night the pub was crowded as usual. Enoch's had become _the_ place to be, according to young, single wizards and witches. So many new establishments and businesses had sprung up like weeds in the years following the war. Erliger Enoch's sister had married a Muggle pub owner, and the two went into business together. They opened the trendy pub boasting both classic wizard spirits and the latest and greatest Muggle concoctions along with the very first wizarding karaoke system. Harry hated the place, but his friends always insisted on getting together there. The drinks weren't bad, but listening to drunk witches screech Celestina Warbeck and half-out-of-their-mind wizards scream the latest Weird Sisters' songs was almost unbearable.

Spotting Dean, Neville, and Ernie in a corner table, Harry made his way through the packed room and tried not to listen to the young witch warble her way through 'Amortentia Broken Heart.'

"Hey," Harry said, taking the empty seat next to Neville.

"Hiya, Harry." Dean slid an empty pint glass across the table and everyone exchanged greetings.

Harry pointed to the large pitcher in the center of the table. "What's this?"

Ernie grabbed the pitcher and poured a pint for Harry. "Witches Brew. Clever huh? They started brewing their own ales in the back."

Harry wasn't sure how clever (or tacky) the name was, but the first sip tasted like heaven. He'd spent the whole day tending the back garden of Grimmauld Place and was in desperate need of a tall drink. "Tastes good."

"It's the brown ale," said Ernie. "I think it's the best of the lot."

Harry took another big sip, and then gave a wave to Hermione and Ron as they entered the pub. With wide smiles they approached the table.

"Hullo, gents," Ron said as he pulled a chair out for Hermione.

"I must say, you've got him well trained," Dean said to Hermione.

"Piss off. You're just jealous," Ron replied, and gave his wife a kiss on the cheek.

This was the only normal thing in Harry's life. These few hours of hanging out over a few pints with his mates gave him some stability, something to hang on to, and he cherished the time.

After the first round, Ernie stood and grabbed his coat from the back of his chair. "Sorry folks. I need to head out early tonight."

"Where you going?" Harry asked.

"I have a MARs appointment in a half hour and I can't be late," Ernie replied.

"No way," said Dean. "How'd you manage that?"

"I had to make it two months ago."

Neville's eyes widened and he spoke with excitement. "I hear they're now booked for over three months in advance. What are you doing?"

"That's personal," said Ernie with a wink.

"Tell us how it goes," said Hermione, and then everyone said their goodbyes to Ernie.

"Mars? What's that?" Harry asked, wondering just what had the entire table so intrigued.

"Magical Alternative Realities," Hermione said. "It's the latest craze."

"Yeah, George has been trying to get in since it opened, but Malfoy won't let him or Lee near the place," Ron added.

"Malfoy?" Harry asked. "Which one?"

"Draco, of course," replied Hermione. "And believe me, Harry, the Department of Magical Business and Services investigated and reviewed the pilot business for over a year before they went full scale to the public a few months ago."

"Why haven't I heard about it? Harry asked.

"When's the last time you read a paper?" Ron teased.

"Point," Harry said. "So it's like Patented Daydreams?"

"No," Ron said. "That's why George is dying to know how he does it. There's this whole fantasy environment created."

"Like a Pensieve?" Harry asked.

"No." This time it was Neville who answered. "You can interact. It feels absolutely real, like it's actually happening."

" _You've_ tried it?" Harry asked. He couldn't imagine Neville trusting Malfoy as far as he could throw him. "Malfoy's thing, business, whatever."

Neville blushed and took a long sip of his ale.

"Come on, mate," Dean said, giving Neville's shoulder a little shove. "Tell us. What was it like?"

"It was brilliant," Neville said with a sheepish grin.

"What did you do?" asked Ron.

"Quidditch World Cup. It's one of the stock MARs missions. You can get a custom experience, but they're more expensive. I've never been a good flyer and it sounded like fun. Hannah and I went together." Neville blushed again.

"You're dating?" Hermione asked, while at the same time Ron asked, "What position did you play?"

Neville nodded at Hermione, then answered, "We both played Chasers for the British National team. It was incredible. I could fly so fast and I had so much control. The brooms practically had minds of their own."

"And you got out alive?" Harry asked with disdain.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione said. "I'm telling you the Ministry says it's on the up and up."

"I heard a few Aurors were sent in to make sure there was nothing Dark going on," added Ron. "Not me, but some of the older ranks. It's supposedly legit."

"Tell us about the match, Neville. I want to hear more," Dean said.

Much of the rest of the night was filled with Neville telling them all the details of his winning match against the French, how the MARs pre-mission processing worked, and how little he had to interact with Malfoy at all. In fact, the few minutes he did have to meet with Malfoy, Neville found him to be nothing but courteous and professional.

Harry was skeptical.

***

The following Monday, sitting on a small park bench and eating his lunch, Harry couldn't stop thinking about his friend's discussion of fantasies made into realities. It sounded so ridiculous, yet there was something that kept niggling at him, something he hadn't felt for a long time. He had a strong urge to go and see just what Malfoy was up to.

In recent years, Harry had adopted somewhat of a hermit like lifestyle. After the war he had tried – really he had – to be an Auror, but after two years of his picture in _The Prophet_ and constant training in the confrontation of all things Dark, Harry realized that it wasn't what he wanted at all. Both his personal and his professional lives were a mess. He wanted a job out of the limelight, so he approached Mr. Ollivander about becoming his apprentice. Harry dropped out of public life after that and spent most of his time studying wandlore and learning the ancient and noble art of wandmaking.

He finished his sandwich quickly and Apparated to Wiltshire on impulse. The MARs building was right where Neville said it would be.

Butterflies were swarming in his stomach as he opened the office door.

The young receptionist didn't look up as she mechanically asked, "Do you have an appointment?" She probably knew that there were no lunchtime appointments.

Harry approached her. She looked a lot like Daphne Greengrass, but it definitely wasn't her. "Sorry, I don't."

"Mr. Malfoy is extremel—" She finally looked up from her latest copy of Witch Weekly and instantly recognized Harry. "Eee."

Harry took a step back. "Maybe I should—"

"No," she said, quickly getting to her feet. "No, Mr. Potter. Please, sit. Mr. Malfoy will definitely want to see you."

Harry remained standing as the receptionist quietly slipped into Malfoy's office, shutting the door behind her.

She emerged a minute later with a wide and welcoming smile. "Mr. Malfoy will just be a moment. Can I get you anything? Tea? Pumpkin juice?"

"No, thank you."

She slinked closer with a gleam in her eye. Holding out her hand she said, "Hi, I'm Tori."

"Hello, I'm Harry P—"

"Obviously I know who you are. I was three years behind you at Hogwarts. I don't suppose you remember me?" She kept a firm grip on his hand.

"Um, sorry."

"I wouldn't imagine. I was in Slytherin. My sister, Daphne, was in your year."

"Greengrass?"

"Yes," she said, and finally let go of his hand as the door behind her opened.

"Hello, Potter. What a pleasant surprise." Malfoy said in a lighthearted offhand way that instantly set Harry off kilter. In the years right after the war, they occasionally passed each other at the Ministry or on Diagon Alley, but never more than a nod since the days of the Wizengamot hearings. Malfoy addressed him as if they were old friends.

"Malfoy."

"Come in, please." Malfoy gestured to his office.

"You know what? I think this may have been a bad idea." Harry took a few steps back toward the door.

"Nonsense. Something got you all the way from London to Wiltshire; you might as well tell me. I might be able to help."

"I'm not—"

"Potter, please, come sit down. No harm in talking."

Sitting in a leather wingback chair opposite a smiling Draco Malfoy was about as surreal as life could get. For the last few years, he had easily avoided most of the figures from his past. In fact, the last few years he had avoided almost everyone, except his closest friends.

"So tell me what brings you to MARs?"

"Um, not sure. Neville and Ernie mentioned it this past weekend, and I suppose I was curious."

"Yes, Longbottom was a bit of a surprise. Potter, let's cut the small talk, shall we? I'm far more shocked to see you sitting there. Seriously, I would have bet a thousand Galleons that I'd sooner see The Minister for Magic in that chair than you, but I want to make your Magical Alternative Reality a success. Whatever you want. I'd be willing to—"

"Why?" Harry asked befuddled.

"Business."

"Business?"

"Yes, Potter, I'm a business man now and you'd be brilliant for business."

"I'm not going to be your poster boy, Malfoy," Harry said, his irritation level rapidly rising.

"I don't need a spokesperson. The service sells itself. People are queued up for the next four months to have their fantasies come to life, and once they've tried it, they _all_ want to come back. No, what I need from you is material for my stock line of Alternative Realities."

"Stock line?"

"Yes, do you know how many people out there want to be Harry Potter defeating the Dark Lord? Why, it's one of my most requested fantasies."

Harry stood up. "Goodbye, Malfoy."

"Wait."

Harry's anger rose to the surface. "It wasn't some fairy tale. It was real, and real people died."

Malfoy sat quietly for a moment and then gestured to the opposite chair. "Please, hear me out."

Begrudgingly, Harry sat back down.

"I agree that for you it isn't some romantic fantasy, but that doesn't change the fact that people want to experience what it was like, or at least pretend that they are experiencing it."

"It's not the same."

"Of course not, but that's not what I want from you."

"What do you want?" Harry was hopelessly lost in the conversation.

"I have plenty of eyewitnesses from the Battle of Hogwarts, myself included. What people have been clamoring for are experiences from your life that only you could provide. Now before you go leaping out of your chair again, you should know that your friend Viktor Krum has been a client of mine for well over a year, since our prototype phase."

"Viktor?" He was still the star Seeker for the Bulgarians, and Harry had kept in touch over the years.

"Yes, Viktor, and let me tell you that man has quite a healthy fantasy life. He's also incredibly popular. Everyone wants to be him on a broom, and still he has his own myriad of fantasies that he wants to try. Our agreement benefits both of us."

"So you trade him fantasies for his real experiences?"

"My services are expensive, not that he couldn't afford them, but my waiting list is quite long. I bump him to the head of the queue whenever he's in town."

"And he…?"

"He gives me memories of his matches, training, and even some of his adventures off the field, if you know what I mean," Malfoy said with a strange smile.

"No, I don't?"

"Come now, Potter. Krum's post-match exploits are legendary."

"I… you mean…sex?" Harry knew full well of Viktor's exploits, but it wasn't what Harry had been expecting. Neville had played Quidditch for his fantasy.

"Sweet Merlin, you're not a prude, are you? I heard you keep holed up in Ollivander's backroom, but I assumed that it was some sort of cover."

"Shut it, Malfoy. I have a life, and it's private. I just didn't realize that the Ministry would approve of some sort of magical brothel."

"It is _not_ a brothel. No one is having sex with other living human beings, well not unless they come in together."

"But sex with imaginary beings is okay?"

"That's just your messed up Muggle upbringing. It's an alternative reality, a fantasy, and it's a completely healthy experience. What harm is there in some old ugly wizard wanting to feel like he's Viktor Krum at some post World Cup orgy?"

"There's something very wrong with you," Harry said, and started to stand again.

"Sit down, please. Only a small percentage of MARs missions have any sex involved. I'm not running a fornication palace. That's merely what some people want. What _most_ people want are the feelings of fame, fortune, and great magical power. Some wizards and witches just want a respite from their daily boring lives. They want a relaxing day on the beach in Tahiti, or the excitement of playing in the Quidditch World Cup. They want to travel to Egypt and clear an old tomb of evil spirits. They want to fly dragons, battle giants, or best Grindelwald in a duel."

"I don't want any of that," Harry said emphatically.

"Of course not. You've done most of the things people dream about in _real_ life. Some people want to be a champion in the Triwizard Tournament. I have Viktor's memories from that. I'd like to get yours."

"My memories of the Triwizard Tournament?"

"Yes, I have Viktor's experiences of the three tasks, but the public is clamoring for yours. They want to be the famous Harry Potter battling the Hungarian Horntail, saving his friends from the Merpeople—"

"Seeing Cedric Diggory killed in cold blood? Watching Voldemort brought back to life?"

Malfoy didn't flinch. "They want to know what it was like when you battled the Dark Lord. They want to know how you came back alive."

"Ask your father!"

Harry expected Malfoy to start yelling, to reach for his wand, something, anything.

Instead, Malfoy remained calm and eyed Harry carefully. "I have."

It _had_ been a horrible idea to come to Wiltshire. What was he thinking? Harry stood to leave. "Well I have no intention of revisiting the past with you, of all people, and I certainly have no intention of letting you use my life as cheap entertainment."

As Harry slammed the door behind him, he heard Malfoy yell, "It's not cheap!"

***

Harry looked on in anticipation as Mr. Ollivander helped Barnabus Birk find his first wand. It took six rejects before lucky seven selected its master. Harry wasn't sure he would have thought to try the ten-inch willow with dragon heartstring. He had been apprenticing for over three years and still hadn't attempted to match a wizard with a wand.

After the Birks had left, Harry went to the backroom to finish up a new wand that he had been working on. It was only the fourth wand he had ever made, well, with Mr. Ollivander's help and oversight. He hoped working on the wand would help distract him from his encounter with Malfoy at lunch. He couldn't seem to get Malfoy and his MARs business out of his head.

It was almost closing when he heard the door chime, so he went to the front to see if Mr. Ollivander had another new eleven year old to outfit.

Instead, Harry found an old eleven year old. Malfoy looked nervous as Mr. Ollivander spoke to him.

"Nonsense. Of course you need a new wand."

"Really, I'm only here to speak with Potter for a moment, if you can spare him." Malfoy fidgeted and Harry couldn't remember Malfoy fidgeting even once at their last meeting. He found himself wondering if Malfoy had spoken to Mr. Ollivander since he had escaped from the Malfoy's dungeons.

"What wand are you using now?" Mr. Ollivander inquired.

"An Italian wand. Preducci." Malfoy held out the wand, handle first, for Mr. Ollivander to inspect.

"Ah, elm, eleven inches. What's the core? No, don't tell me." He gave the wand a few quick swishes. "Veela hair?"

"Feather," Draco corrected gently.

"It doesn't suit you at all," Ollivander said as he returned the wand.

"I manage fine with it."

"Of course you do, but the fact remains that you can do better. Harry will assist you." Mr. Ollivander caught Harry's eye and smiled.

"Sir?" Harry inquired.

"Yes, Harry, I think you should be the one to wait on Mr. Malfoy."

"But sir, I've never—"

"And it's high time, Harry. Three years you've been my apprentice. I think this is most definitely the perfect opportunity for you to test your skills. Take the next step."

Harry surveyed Malfoy, who looked like he was caught in a crossfire of spells. "All right."

"You don't have to," Malfoy said. "I just came to apologize and to try to convince you to give me a chance to create a MARs mission for you. I'd still like to trade for a memory –  
something you feel comfortable sharing."

"Why?"

"It'll be good for business."

"Ah," Mr. Ollivander said with a knowing grin.

"What?" Harry asked.

"It seems that you each have a task to master. Quite interesting."

"No, not interesting at all," replied Harry. "I have no interest in one of your fantasies."

"Then I have no interest in a new wand."

"You're being difficult on purpose."

"So are you."

"Fine! You let me match you with a wand, and I'll let you figure out my ultimate fantasy. I doubt you can."

"And you'll give me a memory?"

"Not the Triwizard Tournament. Nothing from the war either."

"Hogwarts will be on summer holidays soon. I'm planning to have a set of stock missions for the teen crowd."

"What do you want?" Harry couldn't imagine what Malfoy was up to.

"Battling the Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets?"

"No."

"Why not? You were twelve."

"Anything to do with Voldemort is off limits."

Malfoy seemed to be thinking for a moment, then said, "There were rumors our first year that you tackled a Mountain Troll."

"Yes, with Ron and Hermione."

"What about that?"

"I'd have to make sure it was okay with them."

"If so, you'll give me that memory."

Harry nodded. It seemed innocent enough, young Hogwarts students on vacation wanting to pretend to take on a Troll.

Malfoy had the audacity to look smug. "Let's see those wandmaker's skills then, shall we?"

Harry gave a quick glance over to Mr. Ollivander who was smiling at him curiously. They exchanged quick nods, and Harry got to it. He climbed up the ladder to one of the top shelves where the oldest wands were stowed. These were anywhere from thirty to over a hundred years old and were often suited to pureblood families.

Slowly, he skimmed his hand over the boxes hoping for some sort of inspiration. He settled on a twelve-inch elm with dragon heartstring that was around sixty years old, made by Ollivander's father.

Harry looked to Mr. Ollivander as he descended the ladder, but the man gave him no reaction of any kind as he simply said, "Interesting choice."

It appeared that he really was going to have to do this on his own – find Malfoy a new wand of all the ludicrous twists of fate.

Malfoy inspected the first wand as if purchasing a melon. He did everything but sniff it before he finally tested it with a quiet _Lumos_. It worked, but it was definitely not a match.

Thinking that he needed something with exotic heritage, Harry next selected a ten-inch ivory with unicorn tail hair that was at least a hundred and twenty years old. Mr. Ollivander said he had acquired it on an expedition in India some thirty or forty years earlier. He believed it to have belonged to one of the most powerful Indian wizarding families. It didn't suit Malfoy at all.

For the third wand, Harry decided to go bigger. Chuckling to himself at the idea that Malfoy might have to overcompensate, Harry pulled out a fourteen-and-a-half-inch mahogany with dragon heartstring that Mr. Ollivander had made himself over sixty years ago. It had once belonged to the great British wizard, Stoneswallow, whose widow had returned it to Ollivander when he reopened after the war.

The wand was adequate but certainly not a fit for Malfoy, and neither were the next ten wands that Harry selected.

"Potter, I hate to interrupt your little guessing game, but it's getting late and I have dinner plans."

"Sorry. I suppose I'm going to have to think on this."

"I'm going to have Tori draw up the contracts for the MARs mission in the morning. Can you come by my office – let's say around four?"

"I think so."

"Splendid. I have a very busy week, but I shall squeeze you in."

"What about the wand? When can you come back?"

"Hmm," Malfoy puzzled for a moment. "Friday afternoon?"

"Why not sooner? There are two sides to this bargain."

"I'm a busy man and your incompetence shouldn't be my problem. Good evening." Malfoy headed to the exit. "Mr. Ollivander."

"Good evening," Mr. Ollivander called out to Malfoy as he exited.

"Why in Merlin's name do you want me to try and find him a wand?" Harry asked the second the door swung closed.

"It seems rather obvious, doesn't it?"

"I have no— oh, I took his wand. Some sort of magical symmetry?" Harry wondered out loud.

"Perhaps."

"It's difficult."

"It's supposed to be," Ollivander replied with an enigmatic smile. "Go home, Harry. It's getting late."

 

***

 

"I think I did something really stupid today," Harry said as he collapsed on Hermione and Ron's living room sofa.

"Hermione's in charge of stupid mistakes," Ron joked. "You'll have to tell her."

"Tell me what?" Hermione asked as she joined them with a tray with three hot ciders. It was an unseasonably cold April evening.

"I went to Malfoy's MARs thing today."

"What?" Ron asked, sounding surprised.

"My curiosity got the better of me. It turns out he wants my memories for people to play in like some sort of magical playground. The whole thing spiraled out of control, and now Ollivander expects me to find Malfoy a new wand." Harry took a sip of cider. "This is good." Hermione and Ron were gaping at him like hungry fish.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said. "Start from the beginning."

So he did. He told them everything including offering their first year troll escapade memory. For some reason, Harry expected Hermione to be upset, but instead she merely agreed with Mr. Ollivander's assessment that Harry should be the one to replace Malfoy's wand, and that he had no choice but to stay for dinner because he was looking far too thin. He couldn't disagree with her.

"So what kind of fantasy are you going to do?" Ron asked with his mouth half full of pasta.

"I have no idea," Harry answered honestly.

"There must be something," Ron insisted.

"You can tell us," Hermione said.

"I swear I'd tell you. I don't want anything."

"Harry," Hermione said, placing her hand gently on his arm. "You need to stop being so hard on yourself. Enjoy yourself. Let yourself live a little."

"I live."

Hermione shook her head. "Isn't there something you dream about?"

"I don't dream. Not anymore. I haven't had a dream in years."

"Really?" Hermione asked.

"No lie."

"Oh, Harry," she replied with tears welling in her eyes.

 

***

 

At four o'clock sharp, Harry arrived at the MARs building carrying a rather large arrangement of flowers that had been delivered to Ollivander's shortly after lunch. He set them on Tori's desk.

"These will receive much more enjoyment on your desk than in the dingy back room at Ollivander's."

Lips forming a guilty frown, Tori looked up and met his eyes.

"It was a sweet thought. Thank you. It's just—"

"No explanations necessary, Mr. Potter. I had to try, didn't I?"

Harry smiled at her.

"Tori, what have I told you about seducing the clientele?" Malfoy asked in a playful tone as he entered the lobby.

"Only if it's on your behalf," she retorted.

"Good girl." Malfoy patted her shoulder. "Now, would you be a love and hand deliver those latest contracts on your way home. They're rather time sensitive."

"Yes, of course." She gathered her things quickly and left Harry alone with Malfoy in the waiting room.

"An offering of flowers, Potter?"

"No, not really." Harry blushed. "She had those delivered to me at work."

"Hmm. Not surprising. Astoria is quite enterprising and goes after what she wants. She'd been working for me for only two months before she offered to marry me and bear an heir for the Malfoy line. Quite an extraordinary offer, considering I'm gayer than a pink Pygmy Puff."

Harry snorted.

"I'm not embarrassed." Malfoy walked into his office and gestured for Harry to take a seat.

"It didn't look that way in that front page spread of you and… what was his name? The Bulgarian Chaser?"

"Ivan Ivanoff. Don't laugh. That was his name. Poor thing's parents were obviously not the sharpest quills in the drawer. Viktor set me up with him. Fucking hag Skeeter."

"Ironic to hear that coming from you."

"Touché." Malfoy sat on the edge of his desk and picked up a large scroll.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"It's fine. I'm much happier this way. I get far more play now that everyone knows which team I'm flying for. Still… I just might take Tori up on her proposal someday. She certainly keeps this place running smoothly. I bet she could probably manage the Manor just as well as Mother. Of course everyone would know that it was an absolute farce of a marriage, but that would probably keep a steady stream—"

"Malfoy?"

"What?"

"Stop talking. You're making me dizzy."

"Sorry about that. My mind moves fast, which is why I started the MARs project in the first place. I needed something to do with my time. It's been extremely—"

"Malfoy," Harry warned. "I don't have time for this."

"Very well. Look these over, standard nondisclosure agreement and indemnity release." Malfoy handed the scroll to Harry.

"Maybe I should have someone look these over?"

"Oh please. This is recreation, Potter. Reciprocal nondisclosure. I have Ministry approved safety protocols and emergency procedures. Blah, blah, blah."

"There's nothing here about the memory or—"

"That's a gentlemen's agreement. Are you a gentleman?"

"Are you?"

Malfoy held out a quill. "Come on, just sign the damn thing. Scared?"

"Look, Malfoy, I have my reservations about this, and you're not helping."

"A large percentage of my clients have been uneasy about the whole endeavor. I've found the best way to get over it is complete and immediate immersion."

"Immersion?"

"I'm going to initiate the MARs room straight away. You can get a feel for what it's like and we can talk there. Sign."

Reluctantly, Harry signed and Malfoy signed after him.

"Good. Done," Malfoy said, and opened the back door of his office. "This way."

Harry followed Malfoy down a long slender hallway and came to a green (of course) door. Malfoy murmured a series of unlocking spells and pushed the door open. It was a room with windowless, stone walls and a raised cathedral ceiling. Well, larger than a room, it was almost as cavernous as the Great Hall. One of the walls was covered entirely with cupboards of various shapes and sizes. In the far corner was an enormous pewter cauldron with a fire beneath it, and large clouds of steam wafted towards the roof.

As Harry followed Malfoy to the cauldron, the door slammed shut behind him and the noise echoed through the hall. It seemed to signal: no turning back now.

"It's a potion?" asked Harry.

"It's a combination of a potion and a set of spells, complicated spells, and the room itself possesses certain magical qualities. It took me years to perfect the technique. I'll remind you now that anything you see here is proprietary."

"Yeah, I got it. So what now?"

"Hang onto your knickers. It takes a few minutes." Malfoy stirred the potion once, then drew his wand and began to recite a series of incantations that were completely unfamiliar to Harry.

The room began to shift and sway, and Harry had a feeling similar to falling into a Pensieve. He closed his eyes just for a moment to get his bearings, and when he opened them, he was in a small outdoor café surrounded by tables and people chatting – chatting in French.

"Where are we supposed to be?"

"Rue de l'Or Mystique."

"Where?"

"Think Parisian equivalent of Diagon Alley, but with better food and wine."

"Oh." Harry looked around and took in the surroundings. He could see the Eiffel Tower off in the distance.

"You've never been to Paris?"

"Umm, no."

"That's positively sinful. Sit down, please. We can talk about the MARs process." Draco gestured to an empty table and then Summoned a bottle of wine and two glasses.

"Is that real?"

"Actually, yes. I've found that while you can ingest MARs created food and drink, it never truly satisfies." Malfoy poured two healthy glasses of what looked to be a basic wizarding red table wine.

Harry took a tentative first sip. It was smooth and creamy on his tongue, so he took a larger second sip. "I like this."

"It's L'Astral, a French Goblin export. I pick up a few cases whenever I’m in France."

"Naturally." Harry smirked.

"Making fun of refined taste is uncouth, Potter."

"You're so…"

"What am I exactly?"

"Never mind."

"No, no, please. Enlighten me." Malfoy took a deep sip of his wine.

"I'd like to know how you got into all this." Harry gestured at the surroundings.

"Changing the subject?"

"Yes. Let's stick to business."

"Very well." Malfoy took another hearty sip of his wine. "A large percentage of my clientele come to MARs with fairly detailed requests. Most can be fulfilled by minor adjustments to my stock missions. Some come in with vague ideas of the kind of experience they'd like and look to me to provide them with the rest. I've become pretty adept at reading people. I know the various types. Some want the feeling of fame and fortune – the lavish Ministry affair awarding the Order of Merlin. Others want the actual thrill that might earn such an award. They want to play professional Quidditch, slay a giant, ride a dragon, save the beautiful witch in distress from the evil vampire.

"And of course there are those who are enthralled with famous figures such as yourself and Krum. Oddly, I've even had requests to be Neville Longbottom – that whole business with the snake. Why anyone wants to feel what it's like to be set on fire is beyond me, but if they dream it up, I provide it."

Harry finished his first glass of wine and poured himself another as he remembered that Malfoy did know what it felt like to be on fire. He topped off Malfoy's glass as well.

"Thank you. Now where was I?"

"Getting to a point, I hope," Harry teased.

"Impatient as ever. Yes, I can read most people. Within a few minutes of casual discussion in my office, I know what it is they want and what thrill will satisfy them. Occasionally, I get someone who's unsure. They've heard about my services, and most definitely want something, but they don't know where to begin."

"Like me."

"Yes, so I take them here, sit them down, and let them get a feel for what the environment is like. I let them see what's possible, and we talk."

"Talk?"

"Yes, borderline interview, I suppose, but it helps me to steer them into directions that will be most gratifying for them."

"Ah."

"I'm excellent at what I do, Potter. I haven't met my match yet. I'll find your fantasy and you'll be quite pleased with it," Malfoy said with a smug grin. "And then you'll hand over the troll on the loose memory."

"You still haven't told me how you got into this whole business."

"No, I didn't." Malfoy signaled to a waitress a few tables over.

"Well, I need to try and match your magic with a wand. Don't I get to interview you?"

"I don't usually like to talk about it."

"Well, I'm not your usual customer, am I?"

"Ah, yes. Harry Potter, you're _special_ ," Malfoy said with a sneer.

"I don't… God! You're so—"

The waitress interrupted Harry's half-hearted insult. "Ah, Monsieur Malfoy, always a pleasure, and you brought a friend today – a handsome friend," she said with an accent as thick as Fleur's and an equally captivating smile.

"Yvette, may I present Harry Potter."

"Hullo," Harry said, holding out his hand for her to shake.

She placed her small hand into his but didn't shake. "Delighted to make your acquaintance, Monsieur Potter," she said without the slightest hint of recognition of who he was.

"Yvette knows Paris inside and out," Malfoy said. "Perhaps you'd like to have her show you around."

"I am finished work in fifteen minutes," Yvette added. Still gently grasping his hand, she winked at Harry.

"No, thank you," Harry said gently. She may have been fabricated by magic, but Harry didn't have it in him to be rude. "Malfoy and I have business to discuss. Another time perhaps."

"Bien sur." She released Harry's hand and smiled at Malfoy. "I'll bring a tray of cheese?"

"That would be lovely, merci," Malfoy said.

After she had left, Malfoy said, "You sure you wouldn't like to spend the evening with Yvette. She's a very charming HuMP."

"I thought I was pretty clear about not being interested in _that_ sort of fantasy. Hump?"

"Human Magical Projection. H.M.P. Easier to say HuMP. Hmm, perhaps I should have had Pierre serve us today?" Malfoy asked coyly.

"Not _that_ either."

"Well, you're not after money, fame, or thrill seeking, I had to try something."

"So, you're really trying to figure me out?"

"I'm taking this seriously, aren't you?"

Harry considered that perhaps he should.

Yvette returned with a tray filled with several cheeses and baguettes. "Bon appetit," she said, and then left them alone once more.

"You must admit that sitting here together and sharing a meal is strange," Harry said as he tore off a large chunk of bread.

"It is, but no stranger than doing anything else that I've never expected to do. I've become a student of human nature, Potter. The war had an effect on me. Hell, the war had an effect on everyone. Hungry are you?"

"I skipped lunch. This is delicious." Harry finished chewing his mouthful. "So I'm just supposed to accept that you've changed and tell you everything you want to know?"

"You want to know about me?"

"To figure out why those wands didn't work."

"Obviously, the wands didn't work because your perception of me isn't who I am."

"All right. Who are you, besides someone with discriminating taste with respect to wine and cheese?" Harry asked, and then took another large bite of bread with Gruyere.

"I'm someone who can read people, and you are a classic case of someone who avoids giving any information about themselves."

"We could sit here going back and forth until the sun sets – will the sun set?"

"Yes, this current MARs is in sync with the present time."

"Interesting. Anyway… we could sit here and avoid revealing anything personal back and forth all night, but that won't get us anywhere. One of us is going to have to talk first."

"Why not you?"

"I don't really want a fantasy, and I highly doubt Mr. Ollivander is going to sack me if I don't find you a wand."

Malfoy seemed to absorb that information. "Fine. You want to know how I started the business?"

"Yes. How and… why?"

Malfoy emptied his wineglass before speaking. "After the war was difficult. The hearings weren't exactly a flight around the pitch either. I… I had a lot of things to think through, baggage to deal with."

Listening intently, Harry nodded.

"There were times when I wanted to escape and I kept thinking about the Room of Requirement. I wondered if I could create a place that could attend to my needs. So I began to investigate ancient magic."

"And?"

"Well, I found that I couldn't replicate it. I have no idea how Ravenclaw did it. She made the room almost sentient. I think it has a lot to do with the magic of the castle itself. Still, I learned a lot and wanted to do something with it. Perhaps, I could create an environment within a set of parameters or even memories."

"Like a Pensieve?"

"That's where I got the idea. My mother has one. After the hearings... Merlin, I can't believe I'm telling you this."

"We have a confidentiality agreement," Harry said.

"Yes, but you're the last person that I ever wanted to bare my soul to."

"Oh."

"In for a Knut, I suppose. After the hearings, I asked my mother about your testimony. How you told the Wizengamot that she lied to the Dark Lord for you."

Harry nodded and took a sip of wine, which kept tasting better and better.

"She showed me in her Pensieve. She showed me everything she saw that day."

"Ah."

"Yes, an understatement."

"But what does that have to do with your creating MARs?"

"I began to use the Pensieve quite a lot that year. She shared her memories. I reexamined my own. At some point the two concepts intersected. I started to play with the idea of mixing a Pensieve-like device with a fixed room. Soon it became a mix of memories, potions, and charms. My mother helped immensely with the early experimentation. It took almost two years before I had the first working environment."

"Wow." Harry knew that Malfoy had repaired the broken vanishing cabinet, but he had no idea how creative and capable he was with his magic. As he looked out over Paris, Harry finally appreciated how impressive the feat was.

"Wow is right. Nothing like this had been done before. In bits and pieces, sure, but this is the first documented interactive and functional magical environment."

"So then what?"

"So then I let my friends try it out. Blaise and Pansy tried it and declared that I had to turn it into a business. I was skeptical at first, but as I worked with other people and expanded the possible variations on the MARs, I realized that it was my calling. I liked reading people, getting in their minds, discovering their fantasies, and then making it all come true."

"Out of the goodness of your heart," Harry said, overplaying the sarcasm.

"Out of the size of my Gringott's vault. I'm no altruist. This is a business, but I enjoy it and I'm making a name for myself."

"You like the recognition."

"Of course I like the recognition. Who doesn't like recognition?"

Harry shrugged.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Oh please. Can you honestly sit there and tell me you don't want the recognition?"

"I don't want the recognition," Harry replied calmly while holding eye contact.

"Hmmm." Malfoy dropped the eye contact as he reached for the wine. He refilled both their glasses, emptying the bottle. "Well I'm quite proud of my accomplishments."

"You should be. It's quite remarkable actually. It feels completely real."

Malfoy just stared with a gobsmacked look on his face, so Harry continued. "You found something you liked to do and made it what you do for a living. I can respect that."

Malfoy nodded and seemed to be wrestling with a response. Harry's compliment had rendered him speechless, a surprising feat.

After an awkward moment of silence, Malfoy finally asked, "You didn't like being an Auror?"

"Not really."

"So you quit?"

"It got to the point that I just couldn't do it anymore."

"Do what?"

"Pretend. I think I was pretending and I didn't even know it."

Malfoy nodded like he understood. It was comforting, which caught Harry by surprise.

"And do you like working for Ollivander?"

"I do. It was an adjustment at first, but I've really taken to studying about wandlore. I've especially liked learning to make wands."

"But you haven't matched anyone yet?"

"Nope. I've been studying how Ollivander does it for years. He's taught me so much. There's a science to it, but a lot of it's instinctual, and that takes time to develop."

" _The Prophet_ likes to paint you as a recluse. After you left the Aurors, you shut out the Ministry. You don't give interviews."

"Just because I don't want twenty rubbish articles printed about me every week, doesn't make me a recluse. I have friends. I go out."

"Yes, a very tight knit and tight lipped group." Malfoy took a long sip of wine and waited patiently for Harry to reply.

"They know I value my privacy." There had been many rumors about his personal life and why Harry had quit the Aurors, but no one had ever betrayed his confidence.

"I asked Viktor about you, and all he would say is that you've remained friends."

"I like Viktor."

"You seem like polar opposites. He loves to bask in the limelight and use his fame to fuel his private life."

"What's your point?" Harry knew all too well how Viktor had changed since the TriWizard Tournament and the war. There were other things that Harry had not liked about his life, and had quit those too, but he wasn't about to share that with Malfoy.

"I'm just wondering if you've ever been involved with any of Viktor's friends."

"I'm not going to discuss my love life. That's off limits."

"The war is off limits. Your love life is off limits. Say, Potter, do you have anything in your life within limits?"

"Why don't you lay off?"

"Why don't you want anyone seeing your memories of the Tri-Wizard Tournament? People want to feel what it was like to face You-Know-Who."

"Then give them your memory of Voldemort serving up Charity Burbage as snake chow."

Malfoy blanched. "I'm sorry. I suppose I deserved that."

"None of us deserved any of the things that Voldemort did to us."

"Then don't you think it would be educational for people to experience your memories?"

"You said it yourself; you're no altruist. Don't pretend you're doing this for the common good, like some sort of history lesson. What did you learn from the war? You don't share your memories of Greyback or disarming Dumbledore, do you? It's too personal. It's private. I have my scar and I live with it."

Malfoy unbuttoned the top three buttons of his robes and pulled them open to reveal several thin silvery lines across his bare chest. "We all have scars."

"I… I didn't know what that spell did. It was a mistake in the heat of the moment. Look, is this about you wanting that troll memory or is this some sort of personal vendetta?"

"I'm thinking… perhaps both." Malfoy looked unsure.

"I'm going now." Harry stood. He had no interest in Malfoy's petty game, whatever it was. To think he had almost started to trust him. "How do I get out of here?"

Malfoy stood and waved his wand towards the right. " _Finite Incantatem_ "

The scene shifted and melted away. Paris vanished and Harry was left standing in the MARs mission room.

"Goodnight, Malfoy. Thanks for the wine."

 

***

It was five o'clock Friday afternoon, and Harry was helping Mr. Ollivander tidy up the store for the night when Malfoy showed up.

"Hello. Sorry I'm late. I tried to get away earlier, but I had a few glitches in the mission for tonight that I needed to fix," Malfoy said as he took a seat at the front counter.

Harry finished shelving the wand boxes he was holding before he acknowledged Malfoy. "After the way we left things, I wasn't sure you'd come."

"We have an agreement. You may not think so, but I am a wizard of honor."

"You served Voldemort."

"I honored my family."

The reply paralyzed Harry for a minute, and all he could think of were Narcissa and Lucius's desperate attempt to protect their son at all costs.

"I'll be right back." Harry went to the backroom and opened the workbench drawer where he kept his personal items. When he turned around, Mr. Ollivander was there, appraising him.

"What do you have there, Harry?" Mr. Ollivander asked.

"A wand for Malfoy. He's out front," Harry answered, willing himself to remain calm.

"I heard."

Harry opened the small plain box and showed the wand to Mr. Ollivander, who, of course, recognized it at once.

"That's an intriguing choice. I wonder what would compel you to select _that_ wand."

"Instinct? I'm not sure." Harry took a deep breath as he returned to the front of the shop.

Sensing Mr. Ollivander a few steps behind him, Harry wondered if Mr. Ollivander had as many flashbacks of the war as he did. They had all been damaged in some way at Malfoy Manor, yet here was Mr. Ollivander insisting that Harry help Malfoy find a wand. Maybe there _was_ something left undone.

"Try this," Harry said simply, holding the wand out to Malfoy.

"Is that?" Malfoy asked with widening eyes.

"Yes. I thought perhaps I was going about this the wrong way."

Cautiously, Malfoy took the wand and grasped it firmly in his right hand. For a brief moment he closed his eyes and drew a long breath. When he opened them, he seemed determined and resolute.

" _Lumos!_ " The wand lit brightly. Malfoy studied the glowing tip carefully. " _Nox!_ "

" _Wingardium Leviosa!_ " Malfoy said, pointing the wand at an empty box on the countertop. It levitated into the air, and then Malfoy set it down gently with a quick flick of the wand.

Optimism and pride swelled in Harry's heart.

"It's not the same. It's not…" Malfoy stared at the wand intensely as if trying to decipher a cryptogram.

"What do you mean?" Harry's optimism deflated like a balloon with a slow leak.

"It feels… different. I don't know how else to explain it, but I don't feel any more connected to this wand than any of the wands you had me use the other day."

"Try again," Harry urged.

" _Accio wand box!_ The box flew to Malfoy's left hand. Slowly Malfoy shook his head. "It works, but it feels… odd? Unfamiliar?"

"I don't understand." Harry was crushed. He turned to Mr. Ollivander. "I thought for sure that he was still bonded to this wand, and that was why the other wands weren't working."

"If I may offer a possible explanation," said Mr. Ollivander with a gentle expression. "Neither wands nor wizards can undo what has been done. Well, not without a Time-Turner. But that is to say, a wand lives its life much as we do, moving forward."

"You mean because the wand had switched allegiance to me that it can't go back?"

"That is only part of it. The wand in its current time may no longer be a good fit, or more likely, Mr. Malfoy is no longer a match for the wand."

"Both of them have changed," Harry stated as he tried to process it all in his mind. _Malfoy had changed._

Malfoy handed the hawthorn wand back to Harry. "This belongs to you now. For what it's worth, I'm thankful that it worked for you."

"Thanks, Malfoy. I… I'm failing miserably at finding you a wand."

"You can try again. I'm hoping you'll give me another chance as well."

"Oh. When?"

"The weekends are my busiest time slots. MARs is becoming a popular date night destination. Maybe early next week? I still need to pick your brain so to speak."

Mr. Ollivander cleared his throat. "Well, I'll leave you to your brain picking. Goodnight, gentlemen. Harry, lock up, would you?"

"Sure thing. I'll see you Monday."

When Mr. Ollivander reached the back room, Harry heard the crackle of his Apparition.

"You don't have any other wands for me to try tonight? I don't have to be back at MARs until seven," Malfoy said.

"Umm, no. I was convinced that I was supposed to return the hawthorn wand to you."

"I think Mr. Ollivander is right. We can't go back."

"I need to think on this some more."

"All right. Well, I was hoping to have a little nosh before the night session. Care to join me?" Malfoy asked with an amicable smile.

"I usually meet my mates over at Enoch's," Harry said suddenly feeling uncomfortable.

"Ugh, I hate that place."

"Too Muggle for you?" Harry challenged.

"No. The drinks are strong, the sushi's good, but the bloody karaoke makes me want to hex that evil machine to pieces every time I'm there. I hate it."

Harry laughed. "Me too! I only go because my friends like it there."

"Please tell me they don't sing."

"Only Seamus when he's drunk his weight in beer, which unfortunately is fairly often."

"We could go to The Ruby Candlestick?" Malfoy suggested.

Contemplating that for a moment, Harry relented. "Sure. I can head over to Enoch's later. Give me a few minutes to lock up."

"I'll grab us a table."

***

The waiter set the two Alabaster Ales and two meat pies on the table. Instead of leaving, he stood over the table beaming at Harry.

"Is there something we can help you with?" Malfoy said with a haughty attitude reminiscent of his Hogwarts days.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to stare. You're Harry Potter," said the waiter.

Harry could feel the blush heating his cheeks. "Yes. Hullo."

"Hi. I'm Jarvander," the waiter said holding out his hand.

As Harry shook it, out of the corner of his eye he could see Malfoy rolling his eyes. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise," said Jarvander, smiling from ear to ear. "You're far more handsome than your pictures in the papers. They don't do you justice."

"Umm, thanks." Harry awkwardly pulled his hand away.

"Enjoy your meal," Jarvander said, but then whispered into Harry's ear as he walked away. "I'm off at eleven,"

"You certainly have an attentive fan base, don't you?" Malfoy quipped.

"Hardly. People recognize me. That's all."

"Jarvander would like to recognize you on his mattress, or in the men's loo for that matter. Look up eye-fucking in the dictionary and there's a photo of waiterboy staring at you."

"I'm not interested in that sort of thing."

"Ten Galleons says that if you went to the loo right now, he'd follow you in."

"I'm not interested," Harry said, praying Malfoy would let it drop.

"Not interested as in not interested in men, or not interested as in—"

"Not interested," Harry said emphatically.

"Hmm."

"Hmm, what?"

"There have been a million and one rumors circulating about you over the years."

"Rumors are seldom true."

"Seldom, but there's usually a grain of truth to them."

In an attempt to let the subject die, Harry took a large mouthful of his pie.

"So what is it, Potter? Fill in the blank."

Harry kept chewing his pie, however, Malfoy wasn't letting up. "Yes, fill in the blank, would you? It'll help me to formulate your fantasy. Blank sexual."

"Blank sexual?" Harry was completely lost.

"You know… homosexual, heterosexual, bisexual. There, I've made it multiple-choice for you. Easy."

"Malfoy."

"Well?"

"Nothing. I'm nothing."

"Of course you're something. You dated the She-Weasel all those years. You must have—"

"I am absolutely not going to talk about Ginny."

"There was a lot of speculation about your abrupt parting of the ways."

"Drop it. Please."

"Hmm."

"Enough with the hmm-ing."

"Fine. I'll drop the subject, for now." Malfoy smiled and sampled his meat pie.

Harry took another bite as well and chased it with his ale. "I've never eaten here," said Harry. "It's good."

"It does in a pinch."

"So tell me," Harry said in hopes of redirecting the conversation. "How do you match up someone with a fantasy?"

"I suspect it's much like matching a wand. You need to have instinct for what type of person they are, their background, and to be able to interpret the look in their eyes."

"And what do you see in my eyes?" asked Harry, leaning forward and catching Malfoy's gaze.

"Why, Potter, are you flirting?"

The question caught Harry off guard, and he quickly pulled back. "No," he said, but as he thought about it, he realized that he _had_ been flirting. Harry couldn't remember the last time he flirted, and he was flirting with _Malfoy_. It was disconcerting.

Malfoy smiled like he had caught a game-winning Snitch. "I think you were flirting, and I think I know why."

"Oh, you do?"

"I'm safe."

"You're safe?" Harry asked in disbelief.

"Yes, you say you don't want a fantasy, but you won't let yourself have real experiences either. You think it's safe to flirt with me, because you know there's nothing between us."

All of a sudden, Harry wasn't so sure. He took a sip of his ale to avoid a reply.

Malfoy continued. "I'm beginning to understand. I think you need to let yourself have a fantasy. You're merely drifting through life. You _need_ the fantasy, so that you'll let your fantasy become a reality."

"That's quite a supposition."

"If there's one thing I've gained from being in this business, it's that I can now read people. I imagine you're learning that, too."

"Well to match a wand, most of the time you only have a few minutes. Mr. Ollivander might know their family history, and the history of wands in their family, but in most cases he doesn't know the person intimately."

"And yet he remembers every wand he's ever sold," Malfoy said with a hint of awe.

"Yes. It's quite remarkable."

"Do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Remember the wands he's sold, since you've worked there?"

"I think so, although I've never tested it. Do you remember all the MARs missions you've run?"

"Actually, I do. It's not something I meant to do, they simply stay with me."

Malfoy took a bite of his pie, and politely chewed. Harry found himself staring at Malfoy's lips. When Malfoy's tongue darted out to lick the gravy from his top lip, Harry's body responded with a tingle up his spine and a swelling in his groin. What had been simply disconcerting had now rapidly moved to alarming. Harry ate his pie and tried not to look across the table.

"So tell me," Malfoy said. "Am I right?"

"Right?"

"You're avoiding both the fantasy and the reality."

"I'm not avoiding."

"I think you are, and I'll tell you what else—"

"By all means."

"I can give you the fantasy, but fantasy is not reality."

"Thank you for that monumental statement of the obvious."

"You can joke all you like, but I don't think you understand either."

"Either?"

"What you want for your fantasy anymore than what you want for your real life. I never would have guessed, but Harry Potter is adrift."

"I'm not sure I like being analyzed."

"No one does, Potter. No one does, but this is what I do. I'd love to stay and chat, but unfortunately duty calls." Malfoy tossed more than enough gold on the table to cover the tab.

"You don't have to pay for my dinner."

"Don't be obtuse, _I_ invited _you_."

"Oh, then thank you. Come to Ollivander's on Monday?"

"I'll see you Monday afternoon. Dinner and civil conversation – who would have thought it possible? Goodnight, Potter."

"Goodnight, Malfoy."

As Malfoy departed, it occurred to Harry that he was genuinely disappointed to see him leave so soon. Voldemort was going to need a parka in hell.

***

 

On Monday, Harry waited eagerly for Malfoy to show. Two o'clock became three o'clock became four o'clock, and he was left wondering if Malfoy had forgotten. Harry was about to send an owl to schedule another appointment, when Malfoy strolled in at five minutes 'til five.

"Potter." Malfoy said with a restrained nod.

"Malfoy. You certainly like to leave things until the last minute, don't you?"

"Not true. I typically prefer to be prepared early."

"Then why do you waltz in here so close to closing?"

"I'm being polite," Malfoy bit out. "I don't want to interrupt Mr. Ollivander's business for our little experiment."

"Experiment? Well, Mr. Ollivander left about ten minutes ago." And then it occurred to Harry that perhaps Malfoy was trying to avoid Mr. Ollivander, or possibly Malfoy wanted to get him alone. The second idea scared Harry, so he decided it must be the former.

"Then we won't disturb him. Do you have any new wand ideas?"

"Actually, I do."

Harry retrieved the eight wand boxes that he had set aside for Malfoy. One after the other Malfoy quickly dismissed each wand. Some didn't work at all, while others Malfoy thought felt odd or uncomfortable.

It wasn't his spell work. Malfoy's technique was excellent, textbook perfect even. The wands simply showed no affinity for him. It didn't make sense. Harry imagined that if he were a wand, he'd choose Malfoy. Harry amended that thought with the rationale that Malfoy's magic was confident and he did so many creative things with it. MARs was pretty amazing.

Harry went back to the drawing board and picked a 12 ½ inch oak with sphinx hair from the shelf. When it failed, Harry realized that he was grasping at straws.

"I don't know why I can't find you a wand. I've tried everything I can think of – all different woods, sizes, and cores," said a thoroughly defeated Harry. "What kind of wandmaker am I?"

"Quit your whining, Potter."

"Whining?" Harry was outraged.

"Yes, you want to be perfect at everything you do? Instantly? The first try? You dream of being a successful wandmaker? You want your fantasy to be reality? Is that it? Well guess what? It takes work."

"What?"

"You heard me. Work. You asked me what I learned from the war. You expect me to espouse some utter tripe about good and evil and dark and light? You think I'm going to toss out hundreds of years and tens of generations of my pureblood heritage? You want me to say that I've learned that Muggleborns are just as magical as purebloods? You're fucking crazy. You know what I learned? I learned that if you want anything, you have to start from scratch. That's the lesson I learned after the war."

Harry could only gape at Malfoy, whose stare was so intense that it made Harry's eyes water as he tried to meet it.

"Did you think life was roses and happiness for me after the war?"

"Of course not!" Harry protested.

"I had an idea for magic that I wanted to create, and I wanted my name to be respected. It took years – years of work. Molding the magic, testing the theory, prototype potions, and reading every last book I could get my hands on. And then came the business issues. Do you think the Ministry said, 'Oh sure, Malfoy, go do whatever you like.' Hah. There was paperwork, inspections, meetings, and more arse-kissing than you can shake a wand at."

"I never said—"

"Just shut it and listen to me for once. I made MARs from the ground up with my magic and my sweat, in spite of every Ministry stooge who tried to stop me. And guess what? I succeeded, and now everyone comes to MARs, to me. Draco Malfoy makes their dreams come true."

"Not mine," Harry said ruefully.

"No, Potter, not yours. You don't want to escape reality and live a fantasy for an evening. I think you're the first person I've met who doesn’t. You want a happy reality, so I can't help you there. You need to do it yourself."

"You saying I haven't?"

"I'm saying you're waiting for the world to come to you just as it always has."

"Fuck you! You don't know anything."

"Then tell me. Tell me what have you done. You quit the Aurors."

"I quit because I realized that it wasn't what I wanted."

"So now your Ollivander's stock boy?"

"I'm his apprentice."

"For three years, and you still can't find a wand for me? Are you even trying?"

Harry winced. It was like a spell had pierced his chest. "I tried. It's not my fault you're so bloody difficult."

" _I'm_ so bloody difficult? I've been trying for weeks to— never mind. I've had enough. I concede."

"Concede?"

"I give up. Deals off." Malfoy threw his hands up in mock surrender.

"You can't."

"Of course I can. You said it yourself. You don't want a fantasy, and I'm not a reality broker."

"You're giving up?"

"Goodbye, Potter. Have a nice life." Malfoy turned on his heels and slammed the door on his way out.

What had just happened? Harry was gobsmacked. Why was Malfoy so upset about Harry's failure to find a wand? Why would that make him call off the deal, when he said he wanted the troll memory? Nothing made sense.

But something Malfoy said stuck in Harry's mind: starting from scratch. It ignited a fire in his belly, and he knew. He knew that he needed to make Malfoy's wand. Mr. Ollivander's challenge wasn't about finding a wand, but creating one. Harry couldn't help but laugh at the irony of Draco Malfoy being the recipient of Harry's first wand. Malfoy was right. Harry needed to start from scratch.

He went to his workbench and surveyed the pieces of wood and various cores. They wouldn't do. He needed to do this completely on his own and from the very beginning. Clearing everything from his work area, he began to formulate a plan. He left a note for Mr. Ollivander that he would be in late tomorrow.

***

Just after breakfast, Harry Apparated to the Hogwarts gate. As he made his way across the grounds, he realized that he hadn't been to visit Hagrid in well over a year. Hagrid answered Harry's knock with a wide grin under his enormous and unkempt beard. Fang barked wildly and nearly tackled Harry to the floor. Of course Hagrid offered him tea and some inedible treat, after which Harry invited him along for a walk in the Forbidden Forest.

They made small talk as they walked, and Harry surveyed the trees. He passed an overgrown holly tree and a truly impressive old willow, but neither seemed right.

"What're yer lookin' for, Harry?"

"I'll know when I find it."

"Wand wood?"

Harry nodded.

After about twenty minutes they found a beautiful maple tree, and Harry was immediately flooded by the magic that surrounded it. He stopped to investigate its branches while Fang dug enthusiastically at its roots.

"We're on Centaur land. The trees are brimming with their magic. It helps 'em t'grow tall and strong," Hagrid explained.

"Would they mind if I took a branch or two?"

"Don't see why they would, as long as you didn't harm the tree."

"Great. Thanks, Hagrid."

Harry climbed up the tree and inspected branch after branch. Higher and higher he climbed until he found one that struck him as having the perfect shape and taper. A quick Severing Charm later, and it was his.

He returned with the branch to Ollivander's and set straight to work. Harry stayed into the night applying the Drying Charms, cutting the working length, hollowing the center, and smoothing the surface.

Wednesday, Harry sorted through the latest shipment of dragon heartstrings that Charlie had shipped from Romania. After hours of testing, Harry was certain he'd found the perfect one. It had come from one of the oldest patriarchs of Romanian Longhorns that had finally succumbed to old age. Charlie had estimated the elder dragon to be over a thousand years old.

Every so often, Mr. Ollivander would come in to the workroom to check on him, but his mentor seemed to sense that Harry truly needed to create this wand on his own. He worked late into the evenings and barely stopped to eat.

It took Harry until the end of the week to finish molding the heartstring and installing it. He skived off meeting up with Hermione and Ron on Saturday and stayed in the entire day carving the handle. He applied dragon scales from the same Longhorn for an improved grip.

Sunday morning, Harry woke in a puddle of his own drool on his workbench. The handle needed another 24 hours to dry, so he went home to sleep in his own bed.

On Monday, Harry began the hardest part of setting the finished length. He sanded and rubbed the outer wood polishing it to the unfinished tip. Mr. Ollivander had instructed him that it was critical to sense the magic along the shaft and form the tip at the optimum length. He had to follow the grain and flow of the wood as well. The maple wand could end up being anywhere from ten to fourteen inches. He spent the better part of the day on smoothing the wood and trying to determine where the wand should terminate.

He finally settled on eleven and three quarters inches. Nervously, he severed the excess and began the arduous task of tipping the wand. Once again he worked late into the evening.

The new wand had to sit for one week to stabilize its magic. This allowed Harry time to catch up on the rest of the work around the shop, although Mr. Ollivander hadn't seemed to mind.

Harry was a little surprised, and if he were being honest, disappointed, that he hadn't heard from Malfoy the whole week. Harry'd hoped that once Malfoy's temper had died down, Malfoy would come looking for him to try and earn the troll memory. Harry still didn't understand why Malfoy would be so upset, not that Harry had ever really understood Malfoy.

It was just that in the last few weeks Harry had seen the other man from a new perspective. Malfoy had grown up, and he wasn't such a horrible person. Actually, he was intelligent and very good company when you got right down to it.

Hopefully the maple wand would work and help to sort things out between them.

***

The following Monday, Harry nervously picked up the finished wand for the first time. He weighed it in his hand. He had put every ounce of himself into its creation. It felt heavy and full of promise. It felt like forgiveness.

The maple wand easily performed every spell he attempted. In his mind he imagined Malfoy using the wand with great success.

"Is it ready?" Mr. Ollivander asked from behind him.

Harry turned and held out the handle. "I think so."

"It's exquisite," said Mr. Ollivander, admiring the craftsmanship.

"I just hope it works."

"Oh, it will. You're a wandmaker, Harry."

"Not like you."

"Yes, and better. What you've done. You've created a wand for a specific wizard. That's much more complex than creating a wand that will sit on a shelf for years and perhaps one day find a match."

"No." Harry shook his head.

"Yes." Ollivander handed the wand back to Harry. "Now why don't you go and give it to Mr. Malfoy. I can manage without you for an afternoon."

"Thanks. For everything."

***

Wearing a scowl of displeasure Malfoy Apparated into the middle of the MARs waiting room. "Now, Tori, what's this emergency that—"

"Hullo, Malfoy," Harry said forcing as friendly a smile as his cheek muscles could withstand.

"Sorry," Tori said sweetly. "He—"

"Traitor!" spat Malfoy.

"Please," said Harry. "Hear me out. Can we go into your office?"

"Hey! When I agreed to send the owl, I thought you'd at least let me listen in," Tori whined.

Both men gave her pointed looks.

Turning to Harry, Malfoy snapped, "Fine. You have two minutes."

Once inside the privacy of Malfoy's office Harry pulled the wand from his robes. He placed it flat across the two palms of his hands. "Your wand," Harry stated, holding it out as the peace offering that it was.

Malfoy's expression morphed from annoyed to awe. "What is it?"

"Maple, eleven and three quarters inches, dragon heartstring… made from scratch."

"By you?" Malfoy asked as he hesitantly reached out for the wand.

"Yes. I even cut down the tree branch myself."

Malfoy examined the details in the handle, and then gripped the wand tightly. "It feels quite comfortable."

"I lined the handle with dragon scales."

" _Accio quill!_ The quill on the desk flew across the room. As Malfoy caught it a wide grin formed across his face. " _Petrificus Totalus!_ "

Instantly, Harry went rigid and fell backward onto the floor. Gripped by fear, Harry could only listen as he inwardly cursed himself for being so trusting.

"I bet you didn't see that coming," Malfoy said with a snicker. "Don't fret, I'm not going to step on your face. I'm merely testing the wand's aptitude for defensive spells. Not that I don't enjoy you in that position – silent and unable to get in my way."

Malfoy pointed the wand at Harry and with a nonverbal spell, levitated him a foot off the ground, then gently set him back down.

Crouching alongside Harry's frozen body, Malfoy studied the wand once more. "The wand is excellent. Truly. I'm… I'm impressed, Potter. I thought you were holding out on me, but I'm willing to admit that I was wrong. There. I've said it. Don't expect to hear it again."

Malfoy sat next to Harry and gently brushed a stray lock of hair out of his eyes. He caught Harry's frozen gaze. "Now before I release the spell, I want to say one more thing. Retaliation isn't necessary. I was only having a little fun. Surely you can appreciate the irony, can't you?"

It made sense when Malfoy put it like that. Harry's first wand turned out to be a custom job for Malfoy. It was ironic in so many ways. As quickly as it came, Harry's anger dissipated, and his fingers no longer itched for his own wand.

" _Finite Incantatem!_ "

Leaving his wand in his pocket, Harry sat up next to Malfoy. "Enjoyed that, did you?"

"A little," Malfoy said with a smirk.

"So the wand?"

"It's perfect."

"Brilliant."

"What do I owe you?"

"Owe me?"

"For the wand?"

"Nothing. Consider it a gift – a peace offering." Carefully, Harry watched Malfoy's expression. He appeared to accept the idea.

"And you'll try a MARs mission?"

"When?"

"I brewed up something this past week. It's ready, if you'd like to try it tonight."

"I thought you said our deal was off?"

"You built a wand."

Harry nudged Malfoy's shoulder with his own. "I wasn't the one who said the deal was off."

"Well, I suppose I didn't mean it," Malfoy said acting proudly.

"Then why did you get so angry and storm off?"

"I was… I was disappointed."

"Why?" Harry pressed.

"I thought you didn't respect me, even after all that I've done since…"

"Since the war?"

"Yes."

"What time tonight?" Guilt consumed Harry. Malfoy had been trying and he hadn't given him any credit for it. He had tried to create a personal fantasy for him and he had tried to find some common ground.

"Come back at eight. I have a few details to finish up."

Harry grabbed the edge of Malfoy's desk and hauled himself up to his feet. He held out his hand to help Malfoy up. As Malfoy took it, Harry couldn't help but enjoy the feel of the warm and dry skin against his own. It was an awkward moment as they stood face to face only a few inches apart.

"I'll see you tonight," Harry said, releasing Malfoy's hand and backing out of the door.

"Eight sharp."  


***

"You're a half an hour early," said Malfoy, looking up from his desk. "I'm not ready."

"Sorry. I'm a tad anxious."

"Very well." Malfoy tossed aside the parchment he'd been writing on.

Silently, Harry followed Malfoy out of the office.

"I'm going to ask you to keep an open mind," Malfoy said as he led Harry down the hall to the MARs room. "I've given this a lot of thought, so I'd appreciate it if you gave it a fair chance."

"All right," Harry replied slowly, trying to imagine just what Malfoy might have concocted in that overactive imagination of his.

Like the previous time Harry had been there, the MARs room was empty except for the brewing cauldron. Malfoy went to the closest cupboard and retrieved a flask that had several white chalk-like balls in it. It was labeled 'HP-3-b'.

He handed the flask to Harry. "Here, hold this."

Malfoy then pulled down three large jars, each containing more large chalky pills. One contained red pills, another green, and the third blue. Malfoy pulled out one of each color, returned to the cauldron, and dropped them in.

"Now hand me that." Malfoy emptied the contents of the flask into the cauldron. "In about five minutes I can recite the incantation. The MARs mission will become active much like you experienced the other week, only it won't be the French café."

"Okay."

"What I want you to do is to go to the far side of the room and Disillusion yourself. Can you do that?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Please cooperate and go along with it."

"Fine." Harry's anxiety level rose another notch.

"What I want you to do is to watch."

"Only watch?"

"Yes. Well, to start. You're going to see _yourself_ , so be prepared for that. I want you to observe yourself, what you could be, what you could do, if you let yourself go."

"Let myself go?"

"You agreed that you'd give this a chance," Malfoy said, losing his patience.

"Okay. Okay."

"Now go to the far side and Disillusion yourself. Then watch. The HuMPs won't interact with you as long as you're Disillusioned. If you want to try interacting, simply remove the Charm."

"Got it."

"Good luck, Potter."

"Thanks," Harry replied, although he wasn't sure what he needed the luck for. He walked to the far side of the room and faced the corner. He waited for a moment to gather his courage, then pulled out his wand and performed the Disillusionment Charm. He took several deep breaths to calm down. He didn't know why he was so nervous. It was just a stupid fantasy game. Malfoy said only to watch to begin with. How hard could that be?

Harry heard Malfoy's chanting across the room. The sound of his voice steadied his nerves a little. He heard a door close and then felt the magic of the room shift and sway. When he turned around he saw a dark alley that he didn't recognize. At the far end there was a figure standing with his back against the wall. Harry took a few steps closer to see. It was himself, or rather a HuMP of himself.

A moment later, another figure came walking down the alley. Harry backed up against a nearby fence for support as he watched the scene unfold.

"I knew you'd be here," the other man said to Harry's HuMP.

"Aren't I always?"

"Yeah," the other man said low and breathy, then insinuated his legs between HuMP-Harry's and leaned over him. "Yeah."

"Want you."

There was no mistaking the intent of what Harry's projection was talking about. Harry had no idea why Malfoy would create something so overtly sexual. Harry thought he'd been very clear that he was not interested in a sex fantasy, but as he watched his HuMP hungrily kissing the other man, he became more than casually interested. He was downright aroused.

Harry took a few steps closer to get a better look. It was too dark. Suddenly a nearby street lamp flickered on, and Harry could see more than shadows. The other man had blond hair and… fuck! It was Malfoy. Malfoy was in the MARs room sucking the face of his magic projection like the world would end tomorrow. Perhaps after this, the world _would_ end tomorrow.

Harry's cock ached in his jeans, making him wish that he had worn robes. Apparently, HuMP-Harry's cock was aching as well, because he spun Malfoy around, pressed him to the wall, and frotted desperately against him.

Pressing his palm against the front zip of his jeans, Harry considered what to do. His conscience warred between ending the charade and watching it to its obvious completion. When HuMP-Harry pulled out Malfoy's cock and dropped to his knees, Harry was paralyzed. There he was, sucking Draco Malfoy's cock, and it was so fucking exciting that he thought he might come in his pants.

Malfoy moaned and clutched his hands into tight fists. Harry supposed that the HuMPs must be fairly proficient at sex acts, perhaps more than proficient if Malfoy's groans and trembling were anything to judge by. It was all so sordid, so dirty. Harry hadn't been this turned on in a very long time. He had a desperate urge to touch Malfoy, to feel Malfoy beneath him, to…

"Ahhh," Malfoy cried out as he came, disrupting Harry from his thoughts. Malfoy looked perfectly debauched with his swollen lips and disheveled hair. It was too tempting to resist.

Without thinking, Harry ended the Disillusion Charm and approached Malfoy. The HuMP-Harry dissolved.

"Is that the first time you've done that?" Harry asked.

"What? Received a blowjob from a HuMP?" Malfoy said coyly.

"No. Me. Have you had sex with a HuMP of me?"

"No," replied Malfoy, his half hard cock still hanging out from his open robes. "I never saw the point. I've always wanted the real thing."

"That's how I feel about this whole thing."

"What's the point of fantasy?"

"Yeah," Harry answered, cautiously running the backs of his fingers over Malfoy's cheek.

"Let's get rid of it then." Malfoy pulled out his wand and immediately the alley vanished and they were alone in the MARs room.

Wrapping his arms around Malfoy, Harry kissed him. He wanted this so badly. As they kissed, Malfoy maneuvered them to the far corner of the room. Then Malfoy's hands were everywhere – in Harry's hair, on his chest, on his stomach, grabbing his arse, and finally, undoing the button and zip of his jeans.

"It's only fair that I return the favor," Malfoy whispered, and then fell to his knees.

So close already, it didn't take much of Malfoy's fervent sucking to bring Harry to the edge. The sight of Malfoy's head bobbing up and down on his shaft pushed him over, and he grunted as he surrendered to his orgasm. There would be other times for long slow shags, but this moment was so powerful that he didn't care that it had only lasted a few minutes.

When he caught his breath, he saw Malfoy smiling up at him. All of a sudden something niggled at the back of Harry's mind.

Harry pulled out his wand and pointed it in the direction of the cauldron. " _Finite Incantatem!_ "

There was the distinct ripple of magic, and then the _faux-Malfoy_ faded into the ether.

***

Harry slammed the MARs room door behind him and stormed down the hall to Malfoy's office.

" _Reducto!_ " The door blasted off its hinges.

Inside, he found the evil git scrambling to his feet and drawing his wand. "Potter! What on—"

" _Expelliarmus!_ " Harry yelled, easily disarming him.

"Are you out of your mind?"

Harry's answer was to grab Malfoy by the front of his robes and punch that obnoxious pointy chin. There was a loud crack as his fist connected with the bone, and the blow sent Malfoy stumbling to the floor. Harry stood over him panting while his anger churned in the pit of his stomach.

"What the hell was that for?" Malfoy asked, rubbing his chin.

"You left!"

"What? Of course I left," Malfoy replied as he used the desk to pull himself up on to his feet. "It would have been highly unprofessional to stay in a client's fantasy."

Harry reeled from Malfoy's flippant reply. It was as if the bottom had dropped out from under him. He staggered backward, collapsed into one of Malfoy's leather wingback chairs, and buried his face in his hands.

A moment later he felt Malfoy walk by and sit in the chair opposite him.

"I can't believe…" Harry stopped himself.

"What's going on? You're upset because you got off on seeing yourself?"

"I didn't… Jesus. That was _not_ what I wanted," Harry stammered.

"I've got news for you, Potter. Whatever you did, you wanted it. That's how MARs works. The mission adapts to the wishes and desires of the target participant."

Harry looked up from his hands for just a moment and then covered his face once again. "Have you?" he asked from behind his fingers.

"Have I what?"

"I didn't just watch."

The intimation of what Harry had just admitted hung in the silence between them for a minute.

Malfoy let out a long breath. "Of course I have," he said this as if it were some casual thing, like trying Moroccan food. "I had to test the product, didn't I?"

Harry looked up to find Malfoy smiling at him, smiling like he was merely soothing a nervous client.

"Who was it?" Harry asked.

"Who was what?"

"Who sucked you off? That is what we're talking about, isn't it? You've had your dick sucked in the MARs room. Who was the HuMP that sucked you off?" Harry's anger grew with every word.

"Why do you want to know?"

"Was it me?" Harry demanded.

"Now that would have been the zenith of self destructive behavior," Malfoy replied cryptically.

"Was. It. Me?"

Malfoy sighed and capitulated. "No. If you must know, it was me."

"You gave yourself a blowjob?"

"No, a HuMP bearing my likeness gave me a blowjob," Malfoy said as if it was a simple matter of fact. "Several times, actually. It took multiple iterations to perfect the fellatio spell. Now, you tell me what happened in there that made you want to attack me? Did you get off watching your HuMP suck someone off? Did a HuMP suck you? Did you join in for some kinky three-way action? Tell me, what was so dreadful?"

His anger had worn off, leaving Harry thoroughly lost and confused by Malfoy's response. Harry couldn't answer. He simply couldn't.

"You know what?" Malfoy said, getting to his feet. "You wanted your fantasy and you got it. No use crying over spilt potion. I fulfilled my end of the bargain." Malfoy retrieved his wand, then went to the cupboard behind his desk and pulled out a small flask. "You owe me a memory."

"Of course, the memory. I should have known. If that's all you want, sure, no problem." Harry got up and snatched the flask from Malfoy's hand. He put his wand to his temple and tried to think about the troll in the bathroom. He tried to focus on his memories of Hermione and Ron, but the images kept fading and were replaced with the image of Malfoy on his knees, and his pink lips wrapped around Harry's cock.

"I can't do this!" Harry dropped his wand hand by his side.

"What's the problem?"

"I can't concentrate. I'll have to send it to you." Harry fled from Malfoy's office and made it to the waiting room before Malfoy grabbed him by the wrist.

"What the fuck happened that you can't even—"

"Shut it! Enough!" Harry pulled free.

"What did I do?" The git had the nerve to look innocent.

"I wish I had never agreed to this stupid… What was I thinking?"

"You came to me first. Something made you come that day. Why can't you accept that you wanted a fantasy? Everyone wants a fantasy. What makes you so special?"

"I didn't. I don't."

"Of course you did. I'm a fucking fantasy broker. Why else would you have come to MARs?"

"I…" Then it hit Harry like a Bludger at short range. He truly hadn't wanted a MARs mission. It wasn't the world of fantasy that had intrigued him. It was Malfoy. He had come to see Malfoy, as if that wasn't the most depressing kick in the pants.

"What?"

Harry turned to the exit. "I'll owl the memory to you."

"That's it?"

"What do you want from me?"

"I want to know what went on in my mission room that put you round the twist?" Malfoy's ire finally appeared for the first time since Harry had stormed into the office and hit him.

"Why?"

"You really are thick."

"Me? I…" Harry relented "It was you, you stupid twat."

"Me?"

"Why do you think I'm so angry? You think I'm angry because you were able to give me some silly fantasy? You think I'm mad because you won my memory, like this was some sort of contest?"

"You're not?"

Suddenly, all the pieces mercifully fell into place. "You set the MARs mission to be a fantasy of watching myself with someone else, didn't you?" Harry said as much to himself as to Malfoy.

"Of course, you wanted to feel something different, to experiment, but you wouldn't dare do it yourself. I figured out that was what you wanted, to watch yourself do something you wouldn't let yourself do, and I was right, obviously." Malfoy drawled the word obviously out so long that it made Harry want to punch him again.

"No, not obviously," said Harry, matching Malfoy's drawl syllable for syllable.

"What do you mean?"

"It was you!"

"What?"

"It. Was. _You._ with me in the MARs room, and I thought it was the _real you_."

"What?" Malfoy whispered it, looking completely befuddled.

"I watched myself on my knees sucking you off, and then it seemed like you ended the mission. We talked, we kissed, and we touched, and for the first time in two years… fuck. I can't believe I… You dropped to your knees and gave me the blowjob of my life. Only it was HuMP-you, and you didn't really end the mission, and by the time I finally realized it, I had already believed it was real. That you really felt something for me. That I felt something for anyone. Two fucking years, and I get fucked over by you and your army of magical fuck-toys!"

Malfoy stared in shock. "Two years?" he asked in awe.

"Arghh! That would be the part that you'd get stuck on."

"Sorry. I… I don't know what to say."

"Yeah, well, it was only a minute ago that it dawned on me that you didn't know. You didn't know, did you?" Harry asked as he felt his wild heart rate begin to slow down.

"No, I didn't. You thought I…?"

"Set me up. Yes."

"I didn't. I wouldn't… The MARs was supposed to react to your own fantasy image. I assumed it would be some sort of random dream figure or long time crush. The spell transforms the image of the person based on the projection of your own thoughts."

"It was you."

"I… I didn't expect that."

"I know that _now_. I'm sorry I punched you."

"It's fine. I've been hit by an angry client… or five. I've learned to keep my fists and my wand at bay."

"I'm impressed."

"Apparently that's not the only thing that's impressed you," Malfoy said with a sly smile.

"Look, Malfoy, let's just chalk this up to one gigantic misunderstanding wrapped up in a horrible mistake."

"Why is it a mistake? You just said that it was me you wanted."

"Fantasized. Remember, fantasy is not reality. Your words, not mine. I haven't been with anyone for two years. I was desperate."

"Two years? You could walk into any wizarding bar in Great Britain and pull any witch or wizard, regardless of their sexual preference."

Harry sighed, and sat on the small sofa. Malfoy followed and sat down next to him, so close their legs touched.

"A few years ago," Harry said, and took a deep breath to summon some courage, "when I was dating Ginny, I… I wasn't happy. I left the Aurors thinking that it would fix everything, but it didn't. I started hanging out with Viktor and his crowd. It was all so enticing. Most them didn't even know who I was. I had a sense of freedom that I'd never had before.

"Ginny and I got together right after the war. I had never been with anyone else. I couldn't even have imagined that I'd be attracted to men, but the fact was that I was. Rather than break it off, I cheated on her. To say I slept around would be an understatement. At first it was a rare occasion when I partied with Viktor's friends, but it soon became more often. I drank a lot and started to use a Glamour to go out in London. It became an almost daily thing. Anyone. Any place."

"You were a man-whore?" Malfoy asked.

Harry took another deep breath and ignored Malfoy's idiotic question. "Eventually, she caught me in the act."

"Ouch."

"Yes. It was ugly, and I hurt her. Horribly. She packed her bags and transferred to the Gringotts Egyptian branch. I did a lot of soul searching after that. I never want to hurt someone like that again. I promised myself that I'd stop the drinking and the anonymous sex, and eventually, I'd be ready for a real relationship. It's been two years. Don't give me that look. I've gone on dates. I've met people. I just haven't connected with anyone and I wasn't going to force it. Then you somehow happened."

"I… happened?"

"I don't know, Malfoy. It doesn’t make any sense."

"Maybe I can help."

"Help what?"

"Help you to figure out what you want?"

Harry looked into Malfoy's eyes and it all became so clear. He'd been feeling it stronger and stronger with each passing hour he spent in Malfoy's company. It had almost overwhelmed him when his wand, the first wand he had ever made by himself, had chosen Malfoy. "Maybe I want you," he confessed.

"And what makes you think you can have me?" Malfoy asked in a playful tone.

"This," Harry whispered, then leaned over and captured Malfoy's mouth in a kiss. His lips felt much like the HuMP-Malfoy's, but he tasted different and his body was firmer under his hands.

Harry pushed Malfoy backward onto the sofa and pressed his body into him.

Malfoy thrust his crotch up against Harry's thigh. "That fucking real enough for you?"

"Mmm, yes," Harry said between kisses. "Only… ngh… not here… my place."

"Sure you can do that without Splinching us?"

Harry slid from the sofa and got to his feet. He held out his hand to Malfoy, who took it with an intense stare. Holding Malfoy tightly, Harry pulled out his wand and Apparated directly into his bedroom.

"All here?" asked Harry.

"I think so," Malfoy replied as he pushed Harry onto the bed.

"Not wasting any time, are you?"

Malfoy unbuttoned his robes and slid them off his slender shoulders. "I don't want to give you a chance to change your mind."

"I won't."

"Good." Malfoy seductively pulled his arms free and let his robes fall into a pile of cloth around his ankles. His body was lean and muscular and his prick was fully erect.

"Fuck, you're sexy. I didn't get to see… never mind"

"Oh, you didn't bother to get undressed in the mission room?"

Harry shook his head.

"Speaking of which," Malfoy said with a predatory stare.

"Oh. Yeah." Harry pulled his t-shirt over his head, taking his glasses off with it. He could hear Malfoy removing his shoes as he hastily removed his own shoes and stripped off his jeans. It took too fucking long, but finally he was naked and Malfoy was on top of him with that luscious prick leaking against his stomach.

"Kiss me again," Malfoy whispered into Harry's open and wanting mouth.

So Harry did. He kissed him with a desperation that he hadn't felt in a long time. They rolled about on the bed like a couple of teenagers with their hands seeking out anything they could grab.

"I presume after two years of celibacy you've got some lube around?" Malfoy asked, nipping at Harry's ear.

Harry groped through the bedside table drawer and thankfully found the tube.

"Give it here," said Malfoy, who was now back on top and straddling his thighs.

With heavily slicked hands, Malfoy aligned their cocks and began to stroke. He grabbed one of Harry's hands to join his.

"That's good," Harry moaned.

"I know."

"Not too much. I don't want to come yet."

With a lascivious grin, Malfoy leaned forward and kissed him again.

Harry ran his hands up and down Malfoy's body. Malfoy's skin was hot and pliant under his fingers. Eventually he got to Malfoy's arse and caressed it.

"I want to fuck you," Harry said, his voice sounding raspy and strained.

Malfoy's answer was to take Harry's hand and guide his slicked fingers between his arse cheeks. Harry slid his hand up and down Malfoy's crack then pressed his index finger against the tiny pucker. Malfoy moaned as Harry worked his finger in and then another. Wriggling his arse, Malfoy fucked himself on Harry's fingers.

Harry missed this. Two years was a long time with nothing but your own hands. He wanted to be inside Malfoy. He wanted to feel the tight heat that was gripping his fingers surrounding his cock, but more than that he wanted to see Malfoy's face when he came undone. Harry removed his fingers and grabbed Malfoy's hips to guide him.

Slowly and oh so provocatively, Malfoy sank down on Harry's shaft. The sensation was so intense that Harry had to close his eyes. When he opened them, Malfoy's expression was one of triumph and mischief.

"Two years is a very long time to go without a fuck," Malfoy stated, givning a light pinch to Harry's left nipple.

"Tell me about it." Harry drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. Unexpectedly, he was thankful that he had come earlier that evening in the MARs room, otherwise this fuck would have lasted less than thirty seconds.

With great finesse Malfoy rose up to the tip and slid down to the root on Harry's prick. It felt incredible. Malfoy took his time and worked Harry's cock to perfection, bringing Harry closer and closer to climax but never quite getting there.

When Harry couldn't take any more, he gripped Malfoy around his hips and lower back and rolled them over. Another long wet kiss and Harry was ready. He put his hands behind Malfoy's knees and began to fuck in earnest. Malfoy's arse was hot, slick, and fucking everything Harry had been missing.

Malfoy appeared to be close as well with his swollen cock bobbing against his stomach with every thrust of Harry's hips. Harry reached for the lube and fumbled with it. His hands were shaking, and he poured far too much on his hand, but it would do. He wiped the excess off on the sheets and wrapped his fingers around Malfoy's prick.

As he resumed fucking, Harry stroked Malfoy's cock faster and faster. He had lost all sense of rhythm and had no finesse, but from the look on Malfoy's face, he didn't care.

They locked eyes as Harry sent them both spiraling towards climax. Malfoy came with several loud moans, but he never lost eye contact. Harry could feel his prick pulsing under his fingers and his arse contracting around him.

Slamming home a few times more sent Harry straight to the edge. He reached for both of Malfoy's hands and held them tightly. He thrust once, twice, and then came hard. He collapsed on top of Malfoy and closed his eyes.

"Shhh." He heard Malfoy in his ear. "Shhh. It's okay. Shhh."

Fuck. He'd been crying. Well, maybe not crying, but whimpering and there were tears in the corners of his eyes.

Harry rolled onto his back and took shallow breaths. Malfoy turned onto his side and stared at him intensely.

"That was brilliant for a two year hiatus," Malfoy said. It was just what Harry needed to hear. Malfoy _was_ good at reading people.

"Like riding a broom," Harry replied with a smile.

"Loo?"

"Across the hall." Harry gestured towards the open door of his bedroom.

Malfoy retrieved his wand on the way and left Harry in his post-orgasmic bliss. The night had been full of surprises.

When Malfoy returned, Harry asked, "Stay the night?"

"Sure," Malfoy replied after a moment of hesitation.

"Great." Harry spelled the sheets clean and made a quick trip to the loo as well.

As he snuggled up next to Malfoy, Harry gave him one last goodnight kiss and hoped he would manage not to bollix this up. Sleep overtook him quickly.

Morning came too soon. Needing to get to work, Harry spared a few minutes to stare at Malfoy's sleeping form, and then he struggled to the shower. He was almost done when he heard Malfoy at the toilet. A minute later, he had a visitor in his shower. Malfoy's mere proximity had renewed his morning erection.

"Good morning," beamed Malfoy with the water spraying against his chest.

"Good morning."

"Can I give you a hand in here?" Malfoy asked as he grabbed the soap from the shelf.

"By all means." Harry was relieved that Malfoy didn't seem to be having any regrets about the previous night.

Sighing as Malfoy's soaped hand closed around his prick, Harry thought that he could get used to this. He thoroughly enjoyed Malfoy's wet kisses and his body pressed up against him. They pulled each other off and then showered clean.

As they playfully toweled each other dry, Harry said, "Stay for breakfast?"

"All right."

Harry needed to get to Ollivander's, but he really didn't want what ever this was to end, not yet anyway. They dressed and Harry led Malfoy down to the kitchen.

"Tea and toast, okay?" Harry asked.

"Sounds perfect." Malfoy took a seat at the table as Harry busied himself with the tea.

It hadn't occurred to Harry that one day he'd be having breakfast after a first time sexual encounter. He'd thought quite a lot about what that encounter might be like. He'd fantasized about what he'd do. He'd imagined the touching, the kissing, and yes, the fucking.

The previous night with Malfoy had stacked up well against his imagination. The shower had been an added bonus. What never factored into his wank fodder was the inevitable conversation after.

If it had been someone new, he could have talked about that person's past, but this was Malfoy, and Harry was well acquainted with his history. It was incredibly awkward to sit there sipping tea and munching on toast. The silence grew heavier and heavier making Harry more anxious with each passing moment.

"So, what time do you need to get to the office?" Harry asked in a desperate attempt to make small talk.

"I don't usually go in on Tuesdays. I let Tori handle the office until mid-week. Sometimes I pop in for an hour or two."

"I guess those are the perks of owning your own business: setting your own schedule." Harry spread some orange marmalade on his second slice of toast.

"Since I'm up, I'll peek in on her. Pansy might be there. She comes in for a few hours during the week to work on the books."

"She and Blaise have two girls?"

"Yes, little hellions in nappies." Malfoy snickered. "I'm thankful every day that I am not the father."

Another long silence stretched out between them.

"This is so strange," Harry blurted. "I don't know what to say."

"It is strange. I'll give you that, but I don't see why we can't be grown wizards about this."

"I don't want this to be a one off," Harry said quickly, hoping that he wasn't embarrassing himself beyond recovery.

"Did I give you that impression?"

"Umm. I wasn't sure. Last night was brilliant, but…"

"Potter."

"What?"

"One day at a time okay with you?"

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. "Yes."

"Good. That's settled then," Malfoy said with a wide grin, and then grabbed another piece of toast.

"Oh, I almost forgot."

"What's that?"

"I still owe you the memory."

"No rush. I know you're good for it – Gryffindor honor and all that."

"Come by Ollivander's at five? I can give it to you then."

"Dinner after?"

"Sounds good." Harry couldn't help smiling. He liked where this was going.

He also liked how Malfoy's kiss goodbye made him weak in the knees. The real thing was so much better than the fantasy, and he had the love bites to prove it.

*Finite*


End file.
